Eternal Rivals
by Black-Lyra
Summary: Even with civilization falling to pieces around them, Zim was determined that they continue their deadly game, that Dib never diverted his attentions, and that his young rival remained the same enemy he met so long ago.
1. Preserved and Kept

_**Eternal Rivals**_

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_**Summary: **__Even with civilization falling to pieces around them, Zim was determined that they continue their deadly game, that Dib never diverted his attentions, and that his young rival remained the same enemy he met so long ago._

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_(A/N): Continuing this means a massive undertaking, if this story__ is going where I think it's going..._

_An introductory chapter. This story has been dancing around in my head for ages, screaming at me with its high, nasally voice and demanding that I finally get off my lay butt and breathe some life into it. I don't have much to say yet, but let's just say that I have many surprises in store for the future._

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-_"The wall's cold and pale, the cage made of steel. Screams fill the room. Alone I drop and kneel. Silence now the sound, my breath the only motion around. Demons cluttering around, my face showing no emotion. Shackled by my sentence, expecting no return. Here there is no penance, my skin begins to burn." –Creed, My Own Prison_

The air was as silent as the watchful moon sliding through the sky, if it were not for the rumbling hum of alien engines betrayed what might have been a peaceful darkness. Sleep consumed the lower world, but the wandering dreadnaught was ceaseless in its search for resistance, scouring trees and rolling hills with blinding red spotlights that carved a swath in the darkness. The thrumming was loud enough to drive away the stillness that had once blanketed Earth's surface, scaring off hoards of wildlife critters by the thousands, prey that the owner of the giant vessel had no interest in. The driver muttered impatiently, eager to at last drive out the group of resistance fighters that had pushed back his schedule so dreadfully far from conquest, one taloned finger tapping on a console as scarlet eyes watched the ground with bated breath. He was certain, but still anxious, as nothing could possibly best his ship.

The behemoth was vaguely cylindrical in its shape, with huge bulbous protrusions that spread off from each side like a pair of swollen wings. Mottled in colors of a brilliant crimson red and a deep mysterious purple, with the occasional spot of black that pointed to a porthole for a gun turret or an engine, the alien ship stood as a testament to the incredible technology such a race possessed.

When nothing emerged within the next ten minutes, he didn't allowed himself to be disappointed in the outcome, certain in his own victory and eventual control over this dirt-ball called Earth.

After all, this little uprising was still not strong enough to rival his power, not like those battles of so many years past. And the thought caused another vicious grin to force its way back onto the small alien's features, twisting them into a horrifying grin.

In the end, Zim had already won, or so he believed.

How could the opposite possibly be true, when the greatest epitome of rebellion was already securely locked away?

{-+-}

However, not everything was as peaceful and perfect as Zim believed.

Soft hands padded forward smoothly, soundless and unheard in the winding and empty ventilation tunnels of the floating dreadnaught, as a single figure felt their way through narrow and tight-fitting shafts that curved in a complicated network throughout the ship. Memorizing each twist and turn, a single young woman moved forward with a determination that barely showed on a face creased in anger and ferocity. She would have loved to simply fight her way through but even she knew when one was outgunned and had reluctantly succumbed to using the stealth tactics that someone else had been so familiar with. Given the choice, the girl would have preferred to not go at all and let some other agent take care of this mission; sneaking was never her thing and the young human was set that she was far more valuable in combat.

While all of her reasons for not being eager to go may have been true, the rebellion was desperate for help and no one had the proper headstrong attitude to have an appropriate alternative, so Gaz had grudgingly volunteered.

Quite a long time had passed since she was able to set a single foot on the solid ground of Earth, trapped high in the sky in this menacing hunk of metal. An aerial assault was impossible, so she had snuck on board by hiding in the cargo plunders that Zim had stolen from his conquests, waiting until the right time to enter the ventilation tunnels undetected when the guard shifts changed to a time better suiting her needs. All in all, the young woman had lost a good two days of sleep during the entry, not daring to catch a wink of slumber in that tightly packed corridor where she could be caught unawares. As a result, the usual dark shadows under her eyes were ever more pronounced in size, looking even more desperately in need of some rest than she felt.

She was dressed entirely in an ensemble of grey leggings and a black dress of a material that confused the ship's scanners and allowed her slip inside undetected, one invention of many produced by the missing champion of mankind, smooth and soft like a form of faux silk. Dark blue-tinted goggles were situated over deep brown eyes; pinpointing the location she was looking for, the simple DNA signature proof of what the resistance had long held to be true.

Even with slowly growing collective of recruits and stolen materials and supplies, the uprising was struggling, a mixture of ignorance about the enemy they fought along with lack of unity and effective intelligence hindering progress. Gaz knew about the enemy, but she had neither the knowledge nor willingness to lead, which left only one real option: find her older brother, Dib.

Even with whispers of his supposed death, everyone fighting the invasion knew better.

Announcements via the speakerphone on Zim's vessel openly proclaimed his capture in an effort to crush the spirits of the humans who still sought to fight against him, hoping to end their fighting faster. Some claimed that he was lying, that the talk of capture was only a ploy to cause the uprising to submit and accept defeat. It made sense; if Zim told everyone that Dib was dead, it would only produce a martyr and inflame tensions beyond even their fever pitch, though if the alien had the intelligence to reason out such a thing that was another matter entirely.

But she knew he was alive and probably held in the ship held by the egomaniac invader himself, or why would he place so much security to guard the lower containment levels, or keep his own destructive vessel back from the frontlines where it could take damage?

Not to mention, it was also part of Zim's personality to keep his worst enemy and prisoner close at hand so that he could gloat freely over victory.

In another slight curiosity driven way, Gaz was also fascinated to see what her brother even looked like after so many years away, sure that he'd probably grown like a stupid beanstalk as soon as he became a teenager. He'd be eighteen by now, always one year older than his annoyed younger sister, an unimportant little fact of seniority that the girl usually had no trouble ignoring. Black hair likely grown out jagged like their father...

Yes, it would quite interesting indeed to see the changes...then they would escape.

She kept her mind on each step in from of her, glancing down every so often through the thin grating to see the guards wandering the halls on some disjointed mockery of a patrol route, mostly made up of robots with artificial brains barely fit for the duty of eliminating intruders.

Somehow Zim managed to keep them in line and made them retain obedience on some basic level that it was understood that letting unauthorized people wander in was incredibly against the rules. At least they were smarter—most of the time—than ever-excitable GIR. He didn't have many living creatures that actively served as guards on the Dreadnaught aside from the occasional weak-willed human who'd given up his freedom, and the ones that did exist were quite easily labeled insane. The easiest way to get the experimental monster guards to do their job was to simply seal off the area the intruder was present in, and just sic the beast on them in that enclosed space.

It was...brutal and not the most brilliant plan in the world, but decidedly effective as victims of this plan clearly showed.

Gaz, however, had no desire to become part of the food chain of one of Zim's slobbering lackeys.

Thankfully for the resistence, her natural silence was effective for keeping robots and horrific experimental monster out of her hair.

Soon enough the final vent rose in her vision, the safest and most subtle entrance to the prison in the lowest level, and Gaz placed a hand on the grating and peered through to make certain that the coast was clear before abruptly punching the thin piece of metal off its hinges with a strength that defied her small frame. With a small clatter, the grating toppled to the ground and managed to completely stifle the much quieter sound of her heels landing on the surface immediately after.

Only then did the young woman raise her head to take one long look around at the area intently, dark eyes widening infinitesimally and nearly unnoticeably behind the large goggles she wore and pushed the headgear down to rest limply around her neck.

The cell was approximately forty by thirty feet length by width and most of the space was taken up by a cylindrical chamber of a clear red, glass-like material several inches thick that housed the prison's only occupant. Of course the transparent cell wasn't furnished at all but did have something vaguely resembling a toilet; though Gaz couldn't even tell how the alien thing was supposed to work right and didn't make the effort of trying to figure it out. There were old food stains of varying color on the interior walls, as though at some point the captive had hurled his meals at the cell in a fit of rage and the mess was never completely cleaned.

The figure in the back of the glass room was crouched in the farthest corner where shadows managed to partially obscure him and prevent Gaz from getting a close look at him.

_He couldn't possibly be that small..._She thought to herself silently, considering the way that he was hunched up so tightly and how that must be what was deceiving her eyes at the moment.

Never mind the fact that simple logic dictated that his position alone couldn't have accounted for that difference in size...

But then the black-haired prisoner jerked at the light noise of her heels—how he had attuned to small noises like that was grudgingly impressive—and his head flew up, looking Gaz right in the face and for once, real shock and surprise was visible on that cold face.

Honey brown eyes were squinted and unfocused from a distinct lack of his usual round glasses, probably taken from him out of amusement of seeing the boy half blind and practically helpless, and those eyes fluttered in an expression of acute confusion as he tried to recognize her form from memory. Black hair was limp in front of his face and much shorter than she'd expected, no different from the same style Gaz remembered from her earlier childhood. He was garbed in a set of dull gray clothes vaguely resembling the uniform Zim himself often wore minus the standard-issue gloves and boots, and had a generally tattered appearance that couldn't have been very useful for keeping warm. It was an outfit that appeared nothing better than odd on him, exposing the handful of scars gathered around his wrists and ankles. Scratches and old scars crisscrossed down his arms, some of which that Gaz actually recognized.

The worst injuries that Gaz could see on the surface that weren't obscured by his clothing were a few blotchy bruises and scars situated around the neck and she guessed it was probably some evidence of Zim strangling him at some point, provoked or not.

But the rather large detail that caused Gaz to take pause most of all was how...familiar he looked. There was absolutely no explanation for his appearance—far too familiar and far too small. Nothing like the much older teen Dib was supposed to be.

No if anything, excluding the marks and clothing, Dib looked no different than the eleven and a half year old boy who'd gone missing so many years ago.


	2. Flight of Youth

_**Eternal Rivals**_

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_**Summary: **__Even with civilization falling to pieces around them, Zim was determined that they continue their deadly game, that Dib never diverted his attentions, and that his young rival remained the same enemy he met so long ago._

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_(A/N): I meant to finish up Chapter Six before posting any more, but I got impatient...meh. Cliffhangers, they irk me.  
_

_I knew I'd throw someone a curveball in the last chapter. I'm not going to be too detailed yet about the technical hows and whys until later; this is Gaz we're talking about, one of the least talkative characters in the whole IZ series and least likely to question someone on this weirdness. Necessities like escape and survival come before anything else after all._

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-_"It kills me not to know this, but I've all but just forgotten what the color of her eyes were and her scars and how she got them. As the telling signs of age rain down, a single tear is dropping through the valleys of an aging face that this world has forgotten... There is no reconciliation that will put me in my place. And there is no time like the present to drink these draining seconds. But seldom do these words ring true when I'm constantly failing you, like walls that we just can't break through until we disappear. So tell me now, if this ain't love, then how do we get out? 'Cause I don't know."–Rise Against, Savior  
_

For a long time there was silence in the prison of the wandering Irken dreadnaught, brother and sister staring at one another disbelievingly at the sight they were seeing.

Gaz knew exactly how long it had been since the young alien-hunting grade schooler had apparently dropped off the face of the Earth and right into the clutches of the enemy invader, igniting not concern but definitely questions from the student body. They may not have liked or even appreciated the boy but they were still so accustomed to his presence that people ended up asking questions, rude and degrading as they were. That was exactly why the sight of him there before her unchanged threw a spark of confusion into her and for once was utterly stumped.

Zim couldn't have possibly caused this, he wasn't smart enough to engineer something so complicated, but there was simply no other answer that made sense.

As for Dib, well, he had no clue whatsoever of how long had passed since his capture, unable to even mark a calendar thanks to the tough transparent walls preventing any sort of time-keeping, ruining any idea that boy had for just how long he'd been imprisoned.

After all, never seeing the sun made days feel much longer and impossibly uncountable, though he'd estimated somewhere around six months to a year, a guess that was quickly scrapped once the towering image of his own sister appeared. With his lack of glasses, it was hard to tell who exactly she was at first, but the purple curved hair-style and facial features left no room for doubt it was his sister.

Still Dib found himself wondering if this was simply a hallucination caused by the disgusting food he'd been forced to subsist on all this time, but he had to discard this theory—he'd never gotten sick on the meals before, no matter how gross-tasting it was. And, despite the rumors that people liked to believe about him, the boy wasn't exactly prone to having strange visions for no reason. There was the possibility it was just another hologram sent to taunt him and hound at the boy's thoughts, or perhaps his mind was just starting to screw with him.

It's not like the holograms hadn't happened before; Zim wasn't shy about using such methods on him, sometimes just as an experiment or way to pass time, and the holograms were never a pleasant experience.

Dib usually tried to ignore them and remain silent as his way of defying his captor, but a combination of exhaustion and anger could occasionally make him snap. So instead of jumping to his feet and replying back as he was tempted to do, the young boy remained seated where he was, staring blankly at her and wondering whether or not this was going to be yet another false alarm.

"Dib!"

His whirling thoughts were abruptly broken when the young woman pounded on the glass and shouted at him, breaking any and all thoughts of possible deception. The holograms had always fizzled with any contact to his cell and that voice... She had a stronger and more feminine tone acquired from age, but the same underlying growl that Dib recognized so clearly was still present.

It had to be her, there was simply no other explanation.

Just how long was he here that Gaz could've changed so much?

How...old was he now?

Well, the only way to find out would be to hurry up and say something, "...G-Gaz...?"

The purple-haired girl lowered her hand slowly when she finally heard his voice and placed one palm against the surface of the cell, observing him as her sudden shock began to wear off. The black-haired prisoner paced forward a bit to see her better, continuing in spite of his shaky and stumbling movements, and squinting somewhat to take in the sight before him. Dib's voice was the same as she remembered it except for being rather hoarse and strained, as though he'd done plenty of yelling while incarcerated.

Although, considering the two major players here were Zim and her brother, was this really such a big surprise?

Now that Gaz had her wits all collected, she could see the fading glint of suspicion that had been occupying his face just before her shout, most likely because there was the possibility her presence was just faked. That meant that he had already suspected a ploy from his kidnapper. Obviously, Dib's rivalry—or rather, outright hatred now—with the alien invader hadn't even faded slightly through so many years. Or perhaps it had gotten much worse instead.

Still, what was she supposed to say to him? Gaz was not the most emotional person, unlike her ever-excitable brother, and the two of their personalities always ended up clashing with the slightest provocation, even when they at least made the meager effort to stay away from each other. This was no heartfelt reunion and she had never expected it would be, and who knew if Dib thought this would happen.

Maybe he did suspect a rescue, since he was a stubborn as hell optimist after all.

Despite still being confused about the why and how involved with his appearance, Gaz decided to focus on the here and now. She still had a very important job to do and an escape to finish.

"Stand back," She told him sharply and Dib shuffled backwards against the far wall quickly, a slight trembling present in his hands that the girl didn't know the cause of.

Gaz pulled a coal black device from her satchel shaped vaguely like a derringer and the boy's eyes widened as he recognized its purpose; Dib was the person who created the thing after all. Pressing a switch on the side to turn it on, the object whirred with a low humming noise and a blade ring expanded from the muzzle, glowing red with heat. When the ring was forced against the side of the cell, only a few seconds had to pass for the burning tool melt and cut through the resistance. Gaz wrenched the device back, taking the whole circle of glass wall with it and dropped the barrier to the ground with a dull clunk. Now a huge hole in the cell was present for the occupant to easily slide out of, which he did so swiftly, glad to be finally free of the prison.

Dib opened his mouth to start bombarding her with questions and demanding explanations as to how she managed to find him and how much time had passed among other things, but Gaz cut him off before he'd even begun by grabbing him by the shoulder and practically dragging him to the open vent in the corner of the chamber. "Don't talk now, we're escaping,"

She was stern, not letting any emotions to start peeking through, as they would just get in the way at the moment. She gestured for Dib to enter the vent tunnel, but he didn't budge and irritably Gaz wondered if she really had to force him out. However, just as she was about to say something else, her brother interrupted this time, a determined glint returning to his eyes.

"Gaz, I need the heat saw back for a moment."

The girl remembered that was what the object she used was called, but she was confused and a little curious as why he would refuse escape for it. So Gaz handed the device over and Dib immediately turned it on, twisting the dial on the side to compress the heated ring into a smaller circle about the diameter of a dime. But she nearly attacked him in a combination of shock and anger when he abruptly flipped the muzzle around to press the burning blade against his own wrist. It only lasted a second and the heat saw tumbled to the floor, with the boy clenching a hand around his wrist to apply pressure to the wound, while simultaneously tearing strips of his sleeves off with his teeth as makeshift bandages.

"...Got it..."

The metallic clink of something falling to the ground was what stopped Gaz from interrogating him immediately and her brown eyes caught the sight of a tiny silver sphere stained with Dib's blood, slowly rolling to a stop by her feet. Heedless of the red, she plucked it from the floor, frowning in distaste at the sight of the blinking green light upon the surface. The sphere was marked with a line of Irken lettering that she didn't know how to read and thus it became meaningless.

"Tracking device..." Dib told her haltingly, breathing hard between words as he secured his bandages on the open wound, and Gaz noticed the effort of suppressing the pain was causing his words to slur slightly and his eyes to become glazed. "Zim...stuck that on me...a while back... Leave this room...with it and...and an alarm goes...off." His explanation did make sense, but the total lack of hesitation with ripping out the foreign object was rather interesting.

In a strange, morbidly fascinating way, Gaz found herself wondering just how painful it had to be for someone to stick a burning blade up against your skin and...

No, focus on the task at hand. That's simple gaming tactics; eyes on the prize, distracted by nothing.

At least Dib remembered the tracking chip before they booked it out of there.

"Are you able to walk?" Her voice was quick and to the point, gesturing at her brother and the way he was shaking, one hand fixed on his wrist and other wiping his sweaty forehead. He nodded quickly and the two of them grabbed the ledge and squeezed back through the gaping ventilation shaft, with Gaz going first to lead the way and Dib following along quietly behind. At first she wondered why he was so silent, instead of needling her for information like she expected, until Gaz remembered that her brother was the one most accustomed to sneaking through dimly lit tunnels like this, not her.

No, Gaz herself would have liked to just smash her way out of a situation instead of creeping through the shadows. All of this climbing through vents was really starting to get annoying.

But sadly, this was no longer an option here.

For about ten minutes or so during their oh-so-quiet getaway there was no noise except for the heavy breathing of the boy and almost inaudible sounds of them shuffling through the narrow tunnel, until the piercing shrill of an alarm echoed throughout the ship and a loud thud reverberated from behind.

"I thought you said that the tracker that caused the alarm wouldn't go off," Gaz hissed fiercely, unable to turn her head in the small space to glare at him, but her body language said plenty.

"It...didn't," Dib gasped a little, his exposed hands and feet already forming blisters and scratches from moving across the rough surface in the vent, while a distracted envy formed in the back of his mind for another pair of the slick boots his sister wore as part of the stealth outfit. "The...guard shifts might have...changed. I don't know...how to keep track...of them. No way to...keep time."

Gaz growled at the knowledge, irritated that she simply couldn't use the easy way out, but the way things were going...

"Fine, we'll take another path. We're too slow and exposed here if they decide to smoke us out," With no further direction, the young woman abruptly kicked out the grating beneath her and dragged Dib with her, landing in the kitchen—where a robotic staff worker jumped erratically into the ceiling in response—and sprinted out into the halls.

With her brother in tow, Gaz found the launch hanger where Zim kept the escape pods and pounded the door with the roar of rapidly approaching feet behind them. This door however, was tightly barred and guarded with a small keypad at eye level with Dib that was undoubtedly the way to open her only escape route. But the error was that she couldn't translate the Irken text on the keypad and paused, hating to get stuck here at the end like some kind of rank amateur.

Gaz was just about to turn resolutely around to engage in some ass-kicking as her last resort when Dib suddenly jumped up and punched in a four letter code and the barrier swung open.

With no time to question him on how he learned the password, Gaz ran to the nearest pod and initiated the start-up procedure, as she had driven them before without much trouble. The hum of the engine alone was enough to make her cringe as the pounding footsteps down the hall were joined by shouts and the alarm became more urgent. Just as her brother was about to leap into the machine with her, a familiarly harsh voice rang out and her finger rested on the launch button while eyes cracked open to see a huge crowd of gathered guards holding enough weaponry to blast them to pieces.

The idea that all of that firepower was here because Dib was the escapee in question was rather interesting...and annoying as hell to have to deal with.

Zim was at the head of them, fists clenched so tightly that his claws almost seemed to tear at the gloves he wore, and glaring at the both of them with heat smoldering within hateful, red eyes.

Since coming to Earth, the alien had not changed in the slightest, at least not in the physical aspect of things. Yet for so long there was no one around to question his apparent lack of noticeable aging, and issue wasn't even brought up until he started to cause some real trouble. Ironically, the dreadnaught Zim acquired was something that had crash landed on Earth for reasons that the alien had never clearly explained, though his jubilation in obtaining it was undeniable. The invader wasted no time in repairing the ship and taking it to the sky; a few blown up cities later and the country (and even more) was fighting a practical and losing war against one very foreign vessel and other surprises Zim possessed.

Zim also seemed to realize that while drifting high in the sky, having a method to actually controlling his plethora of experimental monsters was an optional idea and set them loose upon humanity with no inclination of a leash and this time, every knew who was causing this destruction.

And Zim had delighted in finally doing some real damage.

At the moment though, he spared Gaz a quick glare and then set his sights on Dib as though the boy was somehow personally responsible for being able to escape his prison alone, and the robot guards advanced steadily as his fists curled even tighter than before. The metallic appendages burst from his Pak with a sharp click and lifted the tiny alien into the air, one pointed claw angled in their direction displaying his infuriation. "Fools! Did you think you could leave without resistance?"

Dib simply clenched his jaw and with some struggling, calmed the subconscious trembling of his body and mustered all of the hatred he could reach, "I'm leaving Zim, and you can't stop me."

Some unspoken meaning seemed to pass between them, like some kind of secret message that only sworn enemies could understand and Zim's face darkened, "I will make you regret your defiance, _Dib_."

It almost looked as though the two of them were going to fall right back into their old brawls, despite the fact that Dib's current condition was less than par for a ridiculous sparring match. But as the Irken lunged forward to attack, Gaz seized a hold of her brother's collar and yanked him back into the escape pod as the tiny ship fired up its engines, hatch slamming shut as the purple-haired girl brought the flying vehicle around.

Hands clenched tightly around the controls with a fierce determination, and Gaz quickly dragged up a distant memory of flying one of these unwieldy escape pods from Zim's orbital base. Spinning in a circle wildly, the machine seemed to wail as the metal made contact with the ceiling, and a few of the robotic servants who'd attempted to anchor the ship were hurled violently into the walls. Zim made his move then, brilliant green lasers flashing from the tips of the mechanized limbs and gouging deep rivulets into the pod as he tried to bring it down. Distracted by the attack, Gaz directed the weapon control to Zim and drove him back with a few shots that he easily avoided, but it gave her the opportunity she was waiting for.

With a few well-placed laser rounds by an experienced hand, the exit was blasted open and the pod spiraled off into the sky, Zim's scream of rage echoing far behind.

* * *

Claws tightened and grew dangerously close to ripping through the sheer black gloves upon his hands, while narrowed claret red eyes stared off into the distance where the stolen ship was rapidly disappearing as a dot on the horizon. Smoke rose in thick clouds from the hangar bulkhead where new laser burns decorated the forced open door and the roar of wind threatened to rip any nearby figure into empty air.

Zim stayed that way for quite some time, until long after the pod had vanished from his sight and the computer finally managed to jolt him out of his stupor.

**'Master, interior damage is destabilizing the Conquest. I advise that we land and make repairs.'**

That was what he had seen fit to name the ship; Conquest. It was supposed to be the defining hammer blow of his mission. The beginning of the end, so to speak. Besides, Zim had seen no reason to be original with it as the name fit his purpose so perfectly from the outset.

Of course, the computer always had to put a damper on things, even his rage.

He'd found that the onboard interactive AI system built into the Conquest was completely irreparable even after all the work he had done on ship's hull. With no alternative, Zim uploaded his base's computer into the battle cruiser and placed the lab on lockdown for the time being. He certainly wasn't going to use GIR as a replacement. Only bad things happened when his minion got a hold on any computer system, so the Conquest was out of the question. Still, even though some part of his mind knew that setting the cruiser to dock was a sound idea, he didn't reply.

**'Uhh...Master? Were you listening?'  
**

"Silence!" Zim screamed at nothing, only partially aware that the computer had no face he could point at. That was a thought. It should have a holographic avatar he could vent his stress at. Still, it wasn't what was really bothering him at the moment. "He got away..." Disappointing as it was that the security failed to stop them it was also at the same time a slightly exciting realization.

**'I can send the nearest squadron after them, if you want...'  
**

"Yes! Send them! Then you can start repairs or whatever unimportant task you do when I'm not ordering you!" Zim swung around, pointing at one of the cracked cameras, again forgetting the computer had no face. A low groan ensued from the speakers but the peeling cry of the reinforcement alarm sounded with a haste contradictory to the AI that called it. And, somewhere not too far away, the hum of black engines sounded in response.


	3. Since You've Been Gone

_**Eternal Rivals**_

* * *

_**Summary: **__Even with civilization falling to pieces around them, Zim was determined that they continue their deadly game, that Dib never diverted his attentions, and that his young rival remained the same enemy he met so long ago._

* * *

_(A/N): I think I was feeling very snarky and mean when I named this chapter. Anyone here who correctly guesses what it's from gets an imaginary cookie and a pat on the back for being cool. _

_Consider this my anti-aging fic. I see so many stories on this site portraying the characters after a time skip and basically drastically altering how the world sees them; this method seems particularly pointless on Zim specifically. Not that I don't like some of these stories, it's just that many use slight age difference as an excuse to make characters act bizarrely OOC. Besides, I have no clue what Zim's real age is, but thanks to Tak's flashback, I know he's well over fifty years old—probably over a hundred years old actually—and I highly doubt that a few measly years on Earth would be enough to alter his appearance or attitude so much. As for Dib himself, well I personally prefer portraying him as his canon age, though this fic places a weird spin on it. I just find it much more impressive for a preteen kid to be defending humanity instead of a teen or adult, and most of his peers—including the ignorant adults—are much less intelligent than he is. But the major driving force here is still the plot line. _

_Oh yes, the plot. The taste of this impending plot grows ever more delicious in my amazing head._

_Anyway, now that my dumb little rant is out of the way, please relax and enjoy the show._

* * *

_-"It's time to make our move, I'm shaking off the rust. I've got my heart set on anywhere but here. I'm staring down myself, counting up the years. Steady hands just take the wheel. And every glance is killing me. Time to make one last appeal for the life I lead. Stop and Stare. I think I'm moving but I go nowhere. Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared. But I've become what I can't be, oh..." –One Republic, Stop and Stare_

Despite growing farther and farther away from the hulking behemoth with every second, to the point where the boy couldn't even see it as nothing more than a dot on the horizon, Dib still couldn't relax quite yet. Knowing Zim, the green-skinned alien was likely plotting a way to recapture or kill him in brutal and creative—if slightly ridiculous—ways. Putting aside what was and wasn't a clever plan and whatever else one could saw about the doubtfulness of the invader's sanity, he was definitely far more dangerous than people had thought about him.

Dib could draw up hefty list of injuries that could prove his point there.

So Dib kept one eye on the sky behind them almost the entire time his spent in that tiny little escape pod, divided attention spread between the aircraft's rear for any approaching pursuit, and back to his sister to observe her more clearly. Even though his glasses were still gone and his vision wasn't any better than before she busted him out of that accursed prison cell, Gaz was closer to him now and the combination of stark fear and adrenaline pumping through the boy's veins had finally slowed down to the point where focusing on smaller details was easier for his brain to process. Dib was still at a loss at how much time had passed since his capture, but observing his sibling's appearance could give him an estimated age and a guess of the relative length of the time span of the incarceration from there.

And so from what the boy saw so far, he did not particularly like what the evidence was telling him.

Gaz was so much taller than he was now, and some subconscious part of him felt slightly pained and affronted by this small insult to his seniority, and was a far cry from being his "little sister" anymore.

If nothing else, she looked...mature and tough, able to take care of herself and make the job look easy too. Dib wasn't exactly the greatest judge of attractiveness, especially considering his own family, but he supposed he could rightly say that she'd come to be a beautiful young woman...in a daunting, intimidating sort of way. Gaz's hair had grown out longer yet still contained the same curved shape that so resembled jaws, spilling over her shoulders in a violet wave, but it didn't really look like she had taken any particular care with it other than letting her hair grow out naturally. Brown eyes like his own, but a few shades darker than he remembered, and lidded gaze cast familiar shadows.

Looking at her like this, he could only assume that she was somewhere in her late teens—despite the haunting gaze making her appear more mature than that—maybe around sixteen or so.

Dib recognized the outfit she wore and with the exception of the size, he'd created a nearly identical stealth suit in past based off of his dad's old model. There was something slightly exciting about the idea of his creations surviving for so long during his absence, but looking directly at her while she was wearing it was rather disconcerting and uncomfortable. The blue tinted goggles on the other hand, were actually his personal pair, as evidenced by the v-shaped glinting crack on the far left corner he'd obtained during the whole fiasco the _last time_ Gaz had to come help him when he was in trouble.

Now _that _was ironic.

But Dib was far from laughing.

There was something about the idea about his sister having to rescue him that seemed so painful, even though he was well aware that most people were scared as hell of her, it still left a clear impression.

So much for being a big brother.

There were so many things he needed to ask her about and start to climb out of this hole of horrible uncertainty and ignorance he'd been trapped in for so long. Exactly how much time had passed? Why had no one been able to get in touch with him earlier? What condition was his home planet in now with Zim lurking menacingly in the skies above with his metal behemoth? And most importantly, where were they going to go and what were they going to do now?

And then there was the question he knew he was too afraid to ask, one that the boy knew perhaps only Zim himself might be able to adequately answer: how had this happened to him?

Or, if he wanted to be unduly technical about it, how had nothing happened to him?

Dib wasn't without his many scars and bruises; in fact, this had been a reoccurring theme in his life since the first time the alien showed up on his planet. He was accustomed to treating cuts and burn wounds for a long time now and always made sure to keep a first aid kit well-stocked at home whenever he needed it. Who knew if the pack was even still there now, but having it now sure would have been nice.

Lately, the injuries were more sustained and Dib had no real way of treating them. Zim was less than hospitable with his treatment towards his prisoner, but this was one change in particular that Dib had really been looking forward to coming to fruition.

Back when Dib still had access to his own bed at home, he'd participated in a few time-wasting sessions of searching through Irken data files through his captured alien ship one night, before the communication bug he'd planted was discovered and removed, and learned all he needed to know about Irken heightocracy—though the boy was personally amused by the concept of ruling by tallness—and just a few basic culture facts. If anything, Dib was enthralled by the idea of rubbing it in Zim's face when human growth hormones kicked in and he ended up towering over his longtime rival's green head and flashing a smug smirk or two in the process.

He didn't know whether or not the space lizard was even aware of that fact, but to the boy's confusion and anger, he'd managed to stop that victory from ever existing.

But he wasn't without his own brand of suspicion.

Large gaps were missing from his memory that not even the uncountable monotony of his imprisonment could really explain, along with the blurry recollection of red light. There wasn't anything wrong with his memory before his capture, so Dib had a lot of reason to believe it was due to Zim.

But it hadn't all been just sitting in the dark and waiting for the alien to hurt him again. There was the occasional escape attempt, though they were far in between and stopped altogether once he'd been moved into the most recent cell. Before Zim saw fit to send him onboard his destruction spaceship, the boy had to make do with the pitifully disguised base on the planet's surface. The first prison was more simplistic than the glass cylinder—nothing more than the typical steel bar setup really and actually included a window—and Dib picked the locks and broke out within the first week or so, but hadn't managed to make it to an exit fast enough.

However, his second attempt took longer to engineer and put into action, cleverly convincing GIR to smuggle parts to him to create a tool to saw at the metal bars until they were fragile enough to snap under pressure. Specifically pressure obtained from hurling himself at the gate and getting a few painful bruises for his efforts in the process after falling to the floor on top of the broken barrier.

Still, the initial breakout had worked fine up until the point where he'd hijacked the elevator and rode it up to the ground level, racing for the door and his freedom.

It was at that moment that all of the metaphorical horse dooky hit the fan, so to speak.

* * *

_The silence hadn't bothered him at first, not noticing the total lack of noise that was so unusual to the alien's base as his mind was too solely focused on the task of escape. The house was completely empty on the top floor, devoid of the presence of Zim's robot or the mess that so often accompanied it, and the television screen was silent and dark. _

_The trash bin elevator he'd just climbed out of was unmoving, and the same was true for the other secret passages around the house. Dib should have taken this as a sign—an early warning from the start—that something was dreadfully wrong, and stopped to think a moment. But he didn't this time._

_The boy bolted for the door, rather unconcerned about the prospect of the guarding lawn gnome robots on the other side—he'd outrun the stupid things hundreds of times before—and seized ahold of the knob._

_The instant that Dib's palm made contact with the surface, a jolt of pain laced throughout his body, hurling him backwards and landing painfully against the side of the couch. It took him a moment or two to rise and when he did it was only to assume a slouched, sitting position against the lumpy furniture, unable to easily get back up as stars spun in his vision. '_Electrical trap...' _ he registered this faintly, hurrying to bury the angry red of his singed palm into the folds of his coat, barely able to move as the paralyzing effect of electricity on a human body stunned him still. The lightning coursing through the boy's form was enough to cause his limbs to twitch and jerk spasmodically and he could only grit his teeth and try to block out the pain to regain control of himself. By the time Dib had enough presence of mind to notice the alarm bell blaring above his head, it was already too late to do anything about it. _

_Zim used the fake toilet entrance this time, stepping out of the elevator nonchalantly and into the living room to inspect his enemy collapsed on the floor, "Ha! idiotic human! Did you enjoy the shocking little trap I left for you, hmmm?"_

"_Your stupid puns aren't even funny, Zim!" Dib snapped at him despite the static shooting pain up his spine and Zim growled at him angrily, as though the very thought that he could be anything other than a master of comedy was a huge affront to him. "Why didn't you just reinforce the cell then? Look, now you can't even open your own front door!" _

_Zim actually managed to appear thoughtful for a moment, but he quickly shook it off, waving one hand casually as if a door crackling with electricity was a minor concern. "Yes, yes, but Invader Zim needs no door... And you've failed again, haven't you?"_

"_Whatever... Just try and cook up another evil scheme, I'll still escape and stop you!"_

_The alien only smiled maliciously, his stance both arrogant and proud, "Oh, I don't think you will, Dib. Not at all... Computer! Take the prisoner to the new cell!" Immediately, wires erupted from the ceiling and grabbed ahold of the struggling boy as another passage was opened up beneath the floor nearby to drag him through. "Wait, just a moment," Zim stopped the mass with a wave of his hand and stepped closer to the captive and leaned forward. Dib was expecting him to gloat or yell something nasty in his ear, but instead, a gloved claw reached out and snatched the glasses from his face. _

_That was when he started to panic._

"_Zim! Give them back!" Dib desperately tried to force his way out of the wiring that held him, but the metal only tightened further on already burning skin and drew out a pained wince._

_The alien just kept smiling, his claws bending the frames just enough to stop from snapping them in his hands, "Oh, do you need them, Dib-worm?" The boy huffed—of course Zim knew, why else would he mess with him like this? He'd overheard it somewhere or looked it up online or something. "Anyway...the great Zim has some conquering to do. I'll hold onto _these _in the meantime..." And before Dib could shout one more word of protest, he was dragged down into the base._

* * *

That was where everything seemed to fall apart.

Dib's experiences in that prison consisted of little more than waiting, forcing himself to eat the disgusting meals he was given, and being attacked by Zim on and off. This pattern failed to change even when the cell was moved to the dreadnaught, only punctuated by times in which gaps in memory inexplicably clogged his thinking.

Dib wanted to speak and break this tense silence, but his trembling hands caught his attention and he had to wring them for a few minutes to steady himself, hating how the cold feeling festering in the pit of his stomach for so long in that cell hadn't faded. He had the sinking feeling that he was ill with something, though intuition rather than any particular symptoms pointed to this conclusion, other than this relentless shaking in his limbs and the pounding migraine that wasn't getting any better.

Dib knew that if he had really been stuck in that ship for as long as he suspected, then there were definitely going to be some issues with his health, taking into account the disgusting food he had to dine on as well as the fact that any opportunities at bathing were far in between. If Zim ever got fed up with the stink—that was completely his fault by the way—and wanted him "clean," he only needed to divert some water into the room to practically flood the cell every so often. Dib had become only partially aware that the idea of letting him just accumulate filth had disgusted the alien as well.

Not mentioning the fact that if he was infected with some twisted alien virus Zim may or may not have intentionally caused, finding a way to cure it would be difficult to say the least.

Of course the searing pain throbbing like a second heartbeat from his wrist was enough for Dib to actually force his scattered thoughts to focus on the most immediate problem at hand. The tattered excuses of clothes he'd been wearing were not exactly the cleanest things in the world, and there was a possibility that he might have just caused an infection all on his own by using them to stem the blood. Granted, the wound had needed to be bandaged and there was nothing else on hand. Unfortunately, there was nothing useful in the escape pod he could use to replace the dirty makeshift bandages and there was NO WAY he was going to ask Gaz to ruin the stealth suit to replace the material.

So he was stuck with a horribly painful, throbbing injury wrapped in tainted bandages.

At least until they finally arrived wherever it was that they were supposed to be going.

Speaking of which...that would be a nice thing to know and one less thing to worry about.

"So..."

Dib's voice was hoarse and ill-used, and he was far more accustomed to using it for threats and insults directing towards Zim or mumbling quietly to no one in particular lately than for actually starting a normal conversation, so ended up coughing a few times to clear it.

If flying around in a stolen escape pod was ground for "normal," he wasn't even going to debate.

"Here we go..." Gaz mumbled under her breath as he started to speak, the usual twinge of annoyance cresting her features and the young woman's hands tightened almost unperceptively over the joystick-like control mechanism. Normally, Dib would be concerned about those little signs, but not today. Gaz had to tell him what was going on, and any information he could get would be worth disturbing her.

"...Where...exactly are we going?" The boy tried to put most serious look on his face, despite the fact that he couldn't really see very well and leveled his eyes on her hands as they were the closest to him and the most focused in his line of sight. "Or is it some kind of secret hideout?"

Gaz frowned a bit at the question, though it didn't seem to be directed at him this time. "Not really... It's not exactly a huge secret or anything. We just move from place to place a lot, I guess." Her tone was rather dismissive, as though it wasn't all that big of a deal what kind of place they were headed to, but her words did give away some very important pieces of information for Dib.

For one thing, the fact that someone had to change locations often meant that Zim really causing a lot of damage and presenting a much bigger threat than ever before, just as he had suspected. Though the fact that he had now obtained possession of a battleship kind of proved the point anyways.

Also, she had used the word "we."

That meant there was actually a larger group working in tandem somewhere against Zim! A resistance movement fighting against alien invasion, just like he'd always encouraged to come into existence in the first place.

Of course, it was rather late for that wasn't it?

For the most part, if someone had decided to believe him earlier, the situation would never have escalated to this point and the skies would be free of that accursed ship. Or, at the very least, he probably would have found a way to counter his nemesis a long time ago. All this was because of the idiocy of his peers and their inability to listen to reason, not how unbelievable things may have seemed. And by extension, his own capture probably never would have happened either.

Trying not to stew on these bitter feelings, Dib sighed and spoke up again, "So where is the base now? Are there a lot of other people there? Is there any sort of secret passcode I need to be let in? I-"

Gaz cut him off with a wave of her hand and grimaced as she returned her brown eyes to the horizon to keep track of their destination, "Dib, just...be quiet for a while until we get there. You learn everything when we arrive, so just calm down already." The boy pouted a bit unconsciously, annoyed by this sudden dismissal of his questions and sighed dejectedly, and honestly thought that he deserved some answers for all the time he was away. But Dib decided to let it go anyway, he was in way too much pain to bother with arguing and knew that trying to probably wouldn't help him anyway. Eventually though, his gaze was drawn back to his sister's face which was clouded with a confusion as though she were remembering something she didn't quite understand. "How did you open the door?"

"Huh? What door?" Blinking uncomprehendingly, Dib waited as Gaz shook her quickly.

"On Zim's ship. You opened the hanger door with a passcode or something," Gaz clarified and the boy almost slapped himself for not really explaining it well earlier.

"Oh, that! Right, well, it's not like Zim would give me access to English text or anything... So I had to learn the Irken lettering through observation and memorization, y'know..." The teenage girl only nodded her head dully and Dib realized she'd tune him out soon unless he got to the point, "Well, I already knew some of the characters from translating using Tak's ship, so rest wasn't hard to figure out. I can read the language perfectly fine, but I can't really speak it well. As for the door, all the passcodes are the same, so I just entered in the one I heard the guards use on my cell during the prison shifts."

Gaz's shifted into a semi-puzzled expression, "Why are all the codes the same?"

"Dunno... Zim probably designed them that way, like an idiot. Though it's not like anyone but the soldiers who serve him really know the passcode anyway so..."

He tapered off, sighing as the girl returned her attention to the sky, going silent and distant once more.

"Fine...so...could you at least answer one more thing for me?" Gaz grunted in response, and though it wasn't much of an answer, he didn't consider it to be a rejection either. So now he could ask the question he was most afraid of putting words to, "How...old am I now?"

For just one more time, his sister's dark eyes left the sky, though her piloting didn't seem to be affected in the least, and fixed him with a dull gaze that lingered between pitying and something else he couldn't quite discern. She hesitated, so obviously not wanting to tell him the truth and the boy's heart started beating faster than ever. After what felt like an eternity of waiting, Gaz opened her mouth and spoke in a dull and nearly emotionless voice that stopped Dib dead still, "It's been...quite a long time, Dib. Happy eighteenth birthday."

* * *

_(A/N): Wow, not much happened in this chapter huh? Mostly just a revelation and some explanations/reflections. Well, next time will be a different story, I assure you. R&R~_


	4. Demons in the Skies

_**Eternal Rivals**_

* * *

_**Summary: **__Even with civilization falling to pieces around them, Zim was determined that they continue their deadly game, that Dib never diverted his attentions, and that his young rival remained the same enemy he met so long ago._

* * *

_(A/N): One reviewer almost got it right__, I referenced the song by a parody song by "Weird" Al entitled "Since You've Been Gone." Although it doesn't exactly fit the characters—unless Dib got a sudden deathwish and sang this—the title just absolutely tickled me._

_Chapter Four was a doozy. Something about transferring from the two characters I've been focusing on from the start to throwing them back into a larger crowd of people, I suppose. Although Zim definitely and snugly fits the role of the main boss, I decided that the story needed more enemies. Though don't worry, I'm not going to make up new characters willy-nilly—that would be just a bit ridiculous to keep track of at this point—since there are still some familiar issues Dib will have to face._

* * *

_-"Wake up, our life is calling! We're smoke, but not on fire. Give us a sign that we're alive. Snap out of indecision. How we've been hypnotized to think that everything's alright! The clock is counting down...(The clock is counting down)...The seconds tick away...(The seconds tick away)...This is our time. Without a doubt. Time to ignite. We're not going down without a fight!"—Hoobastank, Without a Fight_

_Over six years...I'm...eighteen? _

Well, that was a staggering thought.

Dib couldn't speak at first, as he had no idea what to say to such a statement, even if he suspected something similar. No matter what the boy had prepared himself for, hearing the truth spoken aloud from his sister's mouth was enough to give him pause and kill any thoughts he'd been about to give words to.

A good chunk of his life was effectively halted in place.

The chance to grow up had been stolen from him.

And the only thing that Dib could do in response was to silently curse Zim with every fiber of his being.

He didn't know how the alien managed to force him to stop showing his age, but it was undoubtedly his fault (somehow, and the boy had yet to figure out how though) and Dib was determined to defy him now more than ever.

But before the boy could open his mouth to reply, there was an ominous rumble and the escape pod rocked violently as something collided with the outer hull, sending them into a sudden corkscrew dive. Dib squawked and seized ahold of the seat and tried to avoid landing on his injured wrist, rolling into Gaz and righting himself as she shoved him quickly back over to his side. His sister's eyes had hardened into stone-like anger and settled fiercely on the sky again, hands gripping the vessel's joystick so tightly that her hands turned white with strain. Just as she managed to pull their ship out of its violent nosedive, several dark shapes zoomed around the small Irken escape ship and one of them emitted a ray of blindingly red light that just missed clipping them along the side.

Dib's eyes widened as he took in the sight of them, blurred black shapes that let loose a very distinctive sound of roaring engines. They were ships, but not a trace of the typical purple graced their metal sides. Plus the shape was not even remotely similar, with sharp spiky extensions covering the surface of the ships and leaving behind slipstreams of brilliant crimson with every maneuvering twist and curve.

These were not Irken ships like Zim's, that was for sure.

Gaz's reaction to the pursuers was quite different however and much more intense.

As soon as she saw the viciously spiked spaceships whizzing around them, the young woman slammed one hand upon the wide dashboard and cursed colorfully, pulling the shaking joystick around and attempting to out-maneuver the larger yet obviously speedier vessels. "Shit! Get off my ass you bastards!" And while Dib was briefly distracted by staring at his sister's blatant cursing, the escape pod spun into crazed loops that would've made a person less experienced with near-death situations and the blatant disregard for safety promptly vomit. Unfortunately for the pair, the coal black ships kept up the pace easily, and the twisted, clawed forms vaguely resembling hideously deformed lobsters seemed to open up pincer-esque wings as if to snatch them right out of the sky.

"What the heck are those things!?" Dib yelled over the engine's roar as one of the dark ships whirled uncomfortably close to the point where the boy could even see the clouded red window where the driver must have sat, his hand tightening unintentionally around his throbbing arm instinctively. Gaz didn't answer him directly, her teeth clenched and brown irises burning with a rage Dib recognized from the old days in which he'd made the mistake of pissing her off. But despite his sister's incredible piloting skills, they were far outnumbered and the enemy was far faster, weaving complex circles around them.

"Figures he'd send them..." Gaz muttered, more to herself than to Dib, jaw set as she found the opposing ships drawing closer and catching up with every second. Although it didn't really answer his question, the implications lingering behind the low words was a bit shocking.

"He? Was it Zim? Did he send those things after me?" No reply, but there was no need for one this time.

Perhaps those crazy experiments his nemesis was always performing actually amounted to something after all.

Though, considering the alien's track record, Dib doubted this idea immediately. He'd seen some pretty destructive creations made by his enemy, like a monstrous and constantly growing city-consuming hamster which eventually ended up turning on him. Because no matter how dangerous and man-eating they often were, the one usually the most threatened by those various experiments, in addition to the intended target—usually Dib of course—was Zim himself.

But that was all just assumption and conjecture and Dib hated to jump to the wrong conclusions, which was why he usually prepared for the worst when it came to his enemy, and expected to receive more than he got. Maybe the invader had learned from his mistakes, perfected designs and monsters that were dreadfully flawed before, but there was no way to tell as of yet.

Or maybe—and this was an even worse thought—Zim had managed to make some mysterious allies.

It wasn't the first time that some other alien race had arrived on Earth to interfere with their deadly game, from the incredibly moronic collector pair to the polite but ultimately unwanted intrusion from the Plookesians, but none of them had shown an interest in conquering the planet as well. And even though she had turned out to be an enemy, Tak had despised Zim for reasons which Dib never actually found out, regardless of the fact that she was also an Irken.

Still, whether or not these guys were on Zim's side, it didn't change the fact that they were surrounding the vulnerable little escape pod and verging on knocking it out of the sky.

"Shit...surrounded..." Gaz's voice had a disappointed tone to it, her hands loosening on the controls and her dull gaze told the boy that she didn't think that fancy flying alone would be enough to get them to safety this time. During the chase they had dropped significantly in altitude—with precious little space between them and the earth below—but the pursuers didn't seem bothered by the lack of height and followed without difficulty. Curiously, the black ships didn't open fire and blast them to oblivion like Dib had half-expected would happen to them, but small ports flipped open on the underbelly of the vessels to reveal attachments shaped disturbingly similar to harpoons, carefully aiming at the outer edges of the pod and Gaz sucked in her breath upon recognizing them. However, the utter silence in the still air and complete lack of fiery, burning doom told Dib all that he really needed to know.

_They're not going to kill us..._ The realization floated into the surface of Dib's mind like something dead and unpleasant, remembering that his nemesis would never allow him to just die so easily at someone else's hands. _They're going to haul us back to the ship and...I'll say goodbye to freedom...again._

Every fiber of the boy's body railed against the idea, and he immediately told—panicked and started to yell actually—his sister to avoid them, to do SOMETHING to stop this from happening again.

Gaz just didn't bother to respond to him, staring blankly at the joystick at her hand as though never seeing it before, and wouldn't even meet his gaze.

It was almost as though her body simply shut down at the thought that even her piloting skills wasn't enough to get them to safety.

But there was no way that Dib was going to just lay down and give up after what he'd been through.

He lunged for the joystick, trying to pry it out of his sister's hands while the both of them started to scream and yell at each other, at least making an effort to escape. He wasn't going back there! Not without a fight and Dib wasn't even sure of what half of the words coming out of his mouth were as he shouted back at Gaz, desperation beginning to set in. The pod rocked from side to side in the air, but nothing more as the two siblings fought for control over the vessel.

They were so consumed with the struggle that both of them almost missed the nearby explosion.

Almost, but not quite.

A small container was flung end over end flashed through the air faster than Dib could keep track of, smashing into the side of one of the dark ships and bursting with a sudden conflagration that spewed bright orange flames licking along the side of the hull. Several more followed, a few hitting the same ship and others spread around, and a couple of the bombs simply missed entirely—spinning lazily into ground with a rumbling blast along with the rapid pings of what sounded like bullets.

Though the primitive explosions didn't cause much damage other than small cracks and dents upon the thick hull plating, they were at least sufficiently distracting, and the twisted ships swiveled towards where the bombs had come from. As they turned though, the source of the attacks was already speeding away, and Dib found that the shapes greatly resembled cars driving with reckless abandon. Provided with the perfect opening, Gaz snatched back the joystick from his paralyzed hands and the pod spun forward, clipping one of the ships and tearing off a few chunks of metal with a hideous screech. The battered and beaten Irken ship spiraled out of the ring of pursuers, following the specks in the distance responsible for their escape that rapidly became clearer and clearer.

Thankfully for the pair, this time the chase was much shorter.

The black vessels abruptly spun back as they followed the group of vehicles, entering a city that appeared very dilapidated and practically abandoned, but the signs of distant lights and fires on the horizon showed that people still lived there. Wheeling back from where they came from, the unknown enemy disappeared and left the escapee in the span of a few seconds. Gaz's face seemed to have recovered from whatever shock she seemed to have gone through in their helplessness before and was now smirking bitterly at the pursuers' departure, "Those bastards wouldn't dare follow us here..."

By now the temporary shock of hearing his "little sister" cursing had worn off, though it was still odd to him.

It reminded him that though her personality hadn't changed much, time had still passed.

And not just his sister either, but everything he saw was so utterly different.

Worst of was the city itself, scarred and broken, a ruin of crumbling buildings and burn wounds carved into the blackened heaps of earth below. While it was true that it was never the most attractive or pleasant creation, it was still deeply painful to see the works of mankind to be toppled so suddenly. Not only that, but the fact that these strange and unknown entities were lurking so close was anything but relaxing.

Despite having absolutely no idea exactly what those things were supposed to be and feeling woefully in the dark, Dib decided to ask what she meant by that, "Why wouldn't they follow us?"

"Our territory," Gaz mumbled and gestured with a jerk of her head at the crudely constructed barrier around a less derelict portion of the city center, built with a mixture of sheet metal and wood planks welded together. Less than impressive and showed signs of being rebuilt, but Dib spotted sentries posted in regular intervals along the barrier, holding primitive patched up rifles and bearing cheaply made Molotov cocktails strapped to their belts. The disappointment must have showed on his face because Gaz just shook her head and whispered grimly, "We're survivors, not a resistance, Dib. We have enough basic weaponry and move around enough to avoid capture or destruction, but not much else."

The boy slumped a little in his seat, the temporary rise of knowing that others on Earth were fighting his enemy just about vanished from his mind, "So what now, then?"

"Well, I guess that's where you come in," Her voice was dull but Dib instantly jerked around to give her another questioning stare, very curious to find out what that was supposed to mean.

Before he could continue, the boy was distracted by the escape pod dropping in altitude, coming to a slow and cautious landing in the middle of a large clearing near the front gates of the survivors' territory. She pressed a few buttons with tired hands and the hatch sprung open, and the acrid smell of smoke and burning rubber hit Dib like a sack of bricks. The guards standing atop the gate relaxed upon seeing Gaz in the driver's seat, lowering weapons that Dib couldn't really see carefully, but their faces creased with confusion when their faces came to rest on the other in the passenger seat.

Gaz ignored them for the moment, sliding out of the pod and gesturing for her brother to follow after. He did so quickly, but kept one hand wrapped around his wrist, not meeting the gaze of the people that he knew would be staring at him. His sister led him to the spiked gates and yelled something coarse at the gatekeepers, who immediately ran to open the creaking doors to allow them entry, and a brief walk brought them into the heart of the resistance base while Gaz mumbled curses about black ships and Zim. Dib was too focused on his injury, which had started bleeding through the bandage from where it had been jostled during their aerial chase, and trying to avoid tripping over the shrapnel from some previous battle scattered seemingly at random all around.

Eventually she led him to a large building in the center of the base whose windows were barred with a combination of thick wood and barbed wire, and covered with a layer of black spray paint. It was hard to recognize the feeling at first, but Dib was almost certain that he'd been to this place sometime before, give or take the reinforced entrances and exits of course. It wasn't until Gaz pulled him into the hallways that the realization actually clicked, "Hey, this is school, isn't it? You guys turned this into a home base?"

"Yeah, it was convenient," She mumbled in a way that almost sounded sarcastic, passing a few doors and heading upstairs until they came to an office with a marked out placard hanging above the entrance. As he got closer, Dib could see that the words "Teacher's Lounge" had been scratched out on the sign and the title "Command Center" was scrawled below in large, red lettering that was easy for him to read even in his current state. Mildly curious, Dib found himself driven to start poking around and exploring, having never actually stepped into the teacher's longue before.

Old school files had been boxed up and shoved uncaringly into the corner, giving the circular room a size larger than a typical classroom, with the addition of recently cleaned chairs and tables of much higher quality than the boy was used to. A large sleek monitor took up the better part of one wall, though whether it was a TV or a computer screen was not immediately apparent, the black surface occasionally flashed with mild static. The ceiling light showed signs of having been smashed out and was replaced by a brilliant black-light bulb that cast a purplish-blue glow on everything, and Dib found it comfortable.

Gaz crossed the chamber to a large desk along the far wall, upon which rested a suspiciously clean silver briefcase and clicked it open with a quick flick of her fingers along the latches. "You'll probably want these," Gesturing him over, Dib stared as she placed a familiar pair of circular glasses into his cupped hands. "They're not the originals of course, but these should work just as well."

"Where...?" The glasses still didn't really feel real without an explanation how Gaz got ahold of them.

"I salvaged them from our house, along with a few other things," She shook her head, walking back behind the desk and sitting down into a swivel chair that she almost seemed to sink into. Looking at her like this, Dib found himself wondering just how much work and energy she had to exert in order to rescue him from the Dreadnaught before, and who knows how dangerous it was to even get home now with the whole city at least turned into a battleground. He stared down at the frames in his grasp, and how they almost appeared to glitter in the light, before taking a slow breath and putting them on. He almost instantly had to seize a hold of the table as the world came into focus suddenly, so used to being unable to see that the return to good vision was nothing short of a shock to his senses. Pausing for a few moments, Dib let his eyes adjust to the difference, gaze coming to a rest on the opened briefcase.

"The rest of that is your stuff too," Gaz mumbled, gesturing simply and leaned back in the chair with her eyes closed, seeming to fall into slumber. Dib wanted to ask if she was alright, or if she had been injured without him knowing about it during their escape, but instinct told him to let her rest this time. He still had a lot of questions to ask his sister, but they could wait now that his feet were on solid ground again.

When he peered inside, his jaws dropped upon seeing the garment inside. It was his old trench coat, remarkably well preserved considering how much time had passed, and complete with all the stitch work of repairs he remembered doing in the past whenever scuffles with Zim had caused damage. Holding up the lucky coat, Dib dimly recalled how he had left it behind the day that Zim had captured him, choosing to don some carefully selected stealth gear instead. Overtaken by emotion, he immediately pulled on the signature coat, relishing the feel of the smooth material against his arms.

"I'm never letting go of this thing again," Dib whispered quietly, and for the first time since his escape, truly felt ready to confront his rival once again.

* * *

_(A/N): Of course he was going the signature coat back. Seriously, who expected any differently? _

_A picture of the black ships can be found on my deviantart account.  
_


	5. Glint of Ruby

_**Eternal Rivals**_

_**Summary: **__Even with civilization falling to pieces around them, Zim was determined that they continue their deadly game, that Dib never diverted his attentions, and that his young rival remained the same enemy he met so long ago._

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-_(A/N): So explaining much too long absence: I'm not going to deny it, but this chapter was a bit rushed. After all, I wasn't writing anything on the twenty-fourth or the twenty-fifth. But it needed to get out there. I had to replace the original chapter five because I didn't like the way it made the story flow and rewrote this one to make things sound much better. Plus I had a bout of stomach virus and some other nasties and was really forced to sit through that. So sorry for the wait, hopefully no one was too impatient with me this time. Please enjoy this chapter, because I certainly didn't enjoy writing it._

* * *

"_The world is a vampire, sent to drain secret destroyers, hold you up to the flames. And what do I get, for my pain? Betrayed desires and a piece of the game. Even though I know - I suppose I'll show all my cool and cold - like an old job. Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage. Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage. Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved." –Smashing Pumpkins, Bullet with Butterfly Wings_

* * *

The Conquest set up shop in the conquered human city of Detroit, robot crews and enslaved engineers instantly sent to work on fixing up the interior damage caused by Gaz's flashy exit previously. During this time, the residents were ordered to begin the ceremonial fireworks show that was let loose whenever Zim saw fit to dock the battle cruiser at any one of their unimportant little settlements. The display was necessary, and intended as a firm reminder of his power and authority over them.

However, it wasn't long before the displays had grown to please him as well.

He grew to love the explosions on this planet. In fact, almost as much as the humans themselves did. Humans loved their fireworks big, colorful and overflowing with the stench of powder and smoke. It was one of the very few things that Zim had learned to appreciate about their kind, which was why he made his debut entrance as the world's destroyer as dramatic as possible, leading the Conquest right into the center of an Independence Day celebration as his first act of destruction with the completed battleship.

A grand day, with the behemoth emerging dramatically from the smoke and multi-colored sparks of those human celebrations, and watching as their shocked looks transformed into a wave of all consuming fear. To hear the screaming wails and to see them run! It was something that Zim had daydreamed about so many times before, long before the powerful ship came into his possession.

At the moment though, there was nothing but a stark silence and a tense atmosphere of waiting. In fact, the colorful explosions that had excited him were almost completely ignored from his study that day.

Zim was not accustomed to waiting for any length of time unless he absolutely had to. Angry and impatient, he found that sitting in one place doing nothing had strained his self-control; the 'skool' had taught this little fact well if nothing else. Zim simply could not—would not—sit still. There always had to be something in his hands to mess with; something to keep his mind occupied from other matters. In fact, one of the only things that he could stand waiting for was his Tallests' word, but that was then.

This was a much different problem from his leaders' desire and one Zim did not want to be patient for.

Which was exactly why he was staring blankly at the digital clock set upon his desk, and his claws twined around a pair of well-worn glasses in his hands, while subconsciously drawing more small scratches in the already useless frames. Zim still considered them a kind of 'war trophy' as it were, and valuable proof of the dominion he'd obtained over his rival, now marked and disfigured by years of rough handling since he'd stolen them. He made no effort to be gentle, but bent and abused the glass object granting sight as much as possible without completely destroying them in the process. Someone could have used that attitude and habit as a reference for how Zim treated certain other people he despised.

Still, it made any victory he felt by obtaining the trophy dim considerably now that the prisoner kept secure for so many years had escaped, before even his delicate work was completed. So close and yet so far, and for once he could directly blame the Gaz-beast for the setback.

That was something he rarely cared very much for.

Clashes between them were a—albeit poor—substitute for the battles Zim exchanged with her brother in the past, but since letting him loose intentionally was never an option, he just had to deal with it. For one thing, the girl fought him out of pure necessity and basically nothing else, which was one of the reasons why she was so drastically different. Gaz made no effort to seek him out and they only ended up fighting if the strained circumstances wouldn't allow for otherwise—Zim wasn't always in this region of the planet after all; the Conquest had many places to go—where the typical exchange of old sarcastic 'pleasantries' was scarce if completely nonexistent. And though they were enemies, the invader couldn't help but respect her slightly and had even once extended an invitation to join him at one point—which of course, was summarily refused—though the human's harsh countenance had intimidated him.

It was a so very cold and distant method of war, and Zim was more suited to the bright fires of destruction and words of rage hurled over an open battlefield. And since that was never really his usual method of operation, he had to take out his anger on the prisoner the moment that some good free time presented itself, not that it was always so easy to obtain.

There was a great deal of work involved with leading a war, and his own vessel of destruction wasn't even always at the crux of the fighting, instead focusing on what each individual squadron was doing and where. They were such an inconsistent hassle, and given the choice, Zim would have loved to have brought in Irken fighters instead to take over the more menial tasks. Still, what his pawns lacked in pure firepower or the Empire's soldier-perfect efficiency, they more than made up for terms of jarring speed.

So for a much shorter time than he imagined, Zim remained there in the dimly lit study, waiting for the report from the fighters to come in. And when the proximity alarms rang, telling him of the ships' return, he impatient rose to his feet and headed immediately to the elevator to see to their arrival. "Computer! Take me to the Docking Bay now!" A signature, sharp snap sent the machine moving rapidly.

'**Understood. Master, we appear to have received reports from the squadrons issued orders from abroad. Shall I relay the information they have collected for you now?'**

Well, that was actually a pleasant surprise for once. Zim wasn't expecting for the fighters sent overseas to have retrieved some good intelligence already, though it was really just another fine example of these allies' useful essence of speed going at work. He couldn't be everywhere at once, so the smaller fleets of ships were put to work to spread all across the planet, striking at major cities and making his power known world-wide. An excellent way to rise to the top in his opinion, and they'd better have a bit of news to lighten his already bad mood. "Yes, yes, what have they sent? Tell meee..."

'**Er yes... The report reads as follows: **

_**Strike units Sri and Trell dispatched to the city of London have met with considerably heavy resistance. Although the odds are in their favor, commanders have recorded casualties of ten hunter-class ships and two battle cruisers; the remains of which were disposed of to prevent enemy retrieval. Units Vyskir, Moloch and Tosh have currently laid siege to the Russian capital of Moscow and predict that the city will fall within the next week—task commanders comment that their cruisers fare extremely well in areas of very low temperatures. Units Dol and Fyaine have set down a base camp perimeter in China, where current resistance is minimal. Canadian defenses to the north are holding strong for the moment, but reinforcements from Rask unit have produced fractures in their frontline. General chaos prevails to the south, but so far, no united resistance movement has appeared to challenge us yet.'**_

A lot of fighting, but not many massive countries put completely under his heel quite yet. (Although the knowledge that his fleets were so effective against a giant like Russia and had almost taken a major city was music to his antennae.) Most of his clear wins were the ones obtained right from the outset, as surprise was a major factor leading to many cities into falling to his power. But from there it was more about his foes digging in deep to weather the attacks like stones facing the tornado. Occasionally, a harried request would come in to him from one of the frontlines field of battle for some extra firepower and—depending on the situation at hand—Zim would happily oblige and lead the Conquest in to capture another victory. Irken ships boasted such enormous destructive potential that five of his allies' battle cruisers wouldn't stand a chance against it. But there still was just one of them in his arsenal.

He was still capturing provinces left and right, no doubt about that, but the humans were resisting him every step of the way. Not very well granted, but they did fight. Zim knew humans could be dumb, but he also knew they could definitely be stubborn mongrels too. He had Dib to thank for that knowledge.

Though speaking of that little nuisance of a human...

"I see, and the return patrol? Did they succeed in the mission I gave them?" However, instead of the reply he expected, only the ever-present hum of the elevator's descent was heard, "Computer!"

'**No response from the patrol, Master. They're probably doing the same thing as before.'**

How annoying. Really, their tendency to need up close and personal chats was a waste of Zim's valuable time and energy. Still, he had already arrived at the docking station where the ships were waiting.

With a rush of air the door swung open to reveal a massive dock, many times the size of the escape pod hanger from which the escape had been enacted—still under repair, much to Zim's distaste—and the violet walls of the chamber hummed a deep rumble that was so much more intense near the rear of the ship. Five obsidian black vessels were docked currently; their engines still glowing crimson from the chemical-tinted flame that had been pulsing through them only a few minutes before. They were several times larger than his Voot cruiser, as the Invader's small ship was designed for a race whose average size was comparable to human children, and the creatures piloting these fighters were easily larger in scale.

Zim strode up the catwalk overlooking the vessels and waited for them to emerge from the ship to speak with him, but nothing occurred. "Why do these cowards refuse to show their faces to me?" It wasn't that he didn't know what his pawns looked like—no, he knew perfectly well—but their unwillingness to face him down was both infuriating and supremely rude to a trigger-happy alien.

'**The Tosen are like that, master...'** As usual, if the computer cared at all, it showed no sign of doing so.

But still, it was true. Galaxian wanderers that they were, those of Tosen race were unaccustomed to confrontational situations, though their natural skill for combat was undeniable even to Zim. Coming into contact with them at the perfect moment gave Zim an excellent weapon against Earth, and by using these travelers' own valued culture against them, he knew that they would not dare betray him.

A brief flash emitted from the vessels' front window, and a white noise swept over it as a projected monitor emerged from the surface, and began to display a long string of what looked to be barcode.

After an expectant tapping of Zim's booted heel, the computer hummed again, **'Beginning translation.'**

After a low beep and a slight pause, the barcode broke down and was reorganized into numbers and then once more into more recognizable—to Zim at least—Irken lettering. A scratchy, mechanized voice coldly laid out the information to hear aloud. _**'Pursuit crafts followed the target and Dal-Shie—'**_

Annoyed at the unfamiliar word, Zim interrupted the scroll of words quickly, causing the flow of text to slow to a stop in response, "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

'**It's a Tosen title and therefore cannot be translated Master. However, if I make an educated guess on the meaning, I believe it means "Ice Queen." Given the context, it is probably a gesture of respect.'**

That managed to elicit a growl from the alien invader as the words sunk in. Sure, maybe he respected the Gaz a little bit too sometimes, but he wasn't about to go around saying that out loud or giving her nice little nicknames. Besides which the only nicknames he ever really gave were the nasty or rude ones that were usually reserved especially for the girl's brother. "Tch, foolishness... You may continue."

'_**We sent pursuit immediately to follow the two, however, the piloting skills demonstrated by Dal-Shie were far more advanced than the reports provided to us. We were finally able to corner the escape pod near the outskirts of the Dead City and prepared to carry out retrieval before interference from the girl's companions in the Dead City arrived. They deployed primitive explosives, but Dal-Shie took the opportunity to redirect the vessel and escape into the urban sector and we were forced to retreat.'**_

But the end of this little speech, Zim was absolutely fuming, "So you let them escape?!"

'_**Sir, I believe it was your direct order that we avoid entering the Dead City unless accompanied by the Conquest or another cruiser,' **_The Tosen reply was so unconcerned and precise that it had to be read over a second time to make sure that they were really paying attention to him this time around.

Still, even though they had failed at returning his prisoner, Zim was at least partially mollified to learn that they were actually taking his orders seriously and using them as precedent. "Well, there will be other opportunities...Other chances to fix your mistakes. Refuel and return to patrol until I call for you again. Until then... just keep yourselves away from Zim if you value your hides!" Making certain to end his little chat on a dramatic note, the Irken spun on his heel suddenly and stomped out of the hanger, fully committed to just return to his personal chambers and think up a quick plan for tearing apart that accursed city as he knew he should have done years ago. Gaz and her entourage were finally starting to cross the line from mere common pests to a problem he had to personally deal with.

He also had a very pressing appointment later that couldn't be missed.

Of course, the real importance of the matter was that Dib was loose now, and Zim knew that the boy would waste no time trying to find a way to jam a nasty wrench into his gears. There had to be a good way to rip the area apart and find him, but there were reasons why he had restricted most travel to the Dead City, and why the place he had formally posed as a human was renamed in such a manner. For one thing, the since-grown cloud of pollution above the urban waste had caused the heat to rise unnaturally high. The humans could tolerate it, as natives of this disgusting mud ball, and Zim was relatively safe behind the Conquest's cold metal hull, but the Tosen and their ships couldn't stand the temperatures very long. Only brief forays and sudden raids into the city could be allowed, and always on a time limit.

Not to mention that the tiny resistance there were just about as stubborn and hardy as cockroaches.

'**Master, I'm receiving word from the Research Division. They want to know why they haven't gotten any recent samples for the Dominion Project at the time specified. Shall I relay an explanation to them about the escape...?' **There was another problem to solve apparently. And Zim's claw paused halfway to the manual controls on the elevator, now of the mind to take control of his destination without bothering with the Computer anymore for the day. Growling about people unable to do their assigned jobs and irritating him every second of his time, the invader adjusted the coordinates of the elevator to the primary research labs instead, deciding to give them a story that would get his workers to shut up.

"No! I let you tell them and you'll probably screw it up!" The Computer only hummed, but didn't otherwise respond and soon enough, the only sound filling the air was the soft thrumming of the elevator's movements. When the doors finally slid open once more, he was met the with the sight of white-washed walls—unique compared to the rest of the Conquest—and panels of thick, bulletproof glass separated certain sterilized work areas from the rest of the lab. This was one of the few sectors of the ship in which mutated creatures or robots were replaced with actual human workers, in this case being scientists assigned to assist on his most prized projects, things that Zim was often too preoccupied with war to work on himself. Now though, even though there were a variety of smaller projects being researched here and there, the main focus of the lab workers was his Dominion Project.

At the far end of the lab, room had been cleared to allow space for a massive piece of machinery that buzzed and flickered as the scientists on duty attempted to keep the power output steady. To Zim it was a valuable ring of metal he'd poured his genius intellect into perfecting and ending up never actually using thanks to a strange warning, but that didn't mean he couldn't repurpose it.

Unfortunately there was nothing he could do with the culmination of so many years of hard work until certain obstacles had been removed and certain humans in particular were forcefully suppressed. Construction on the framework and interior components of the Dominion generator were nearly complete but controlling it was the only issue. Now Zim had no choice but to place the device into hibernation so that it didn't become too unstable and work on finding his escapee.

His mind was elsewhere as he brushed off the concerns of the lead researcher, telling him to make do with the samples he had and put the Dominion to sleep for the time being, as there still was a meeting he had to attend and couldn't afford to have to worry about the generator yet.

Zim had to be the very picture of confidence and power.

The Tallests would be calling soon for the report, and there was no room for error.

* * *

_-ZZZZZZZ-_

* * *

_(A/N): Short chapter, but considering how frustrated I was with it, this turned out better than I expected. _


	6. Alliance in Animosity

_**Eternal Rivals**_

_**Summary: **__Even with civilization falling to pieces around them, Zim was determined that they continue their deadly game, that Dib never diverted his attentions, and that his young rival remained the same enemy he met so long ago._

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-_(A/N): I could have brought in a load of OCs for this chapter to fill out a bit of the character roster, but quite honestly, I just don't like making OCs at all. Scratch that, I actually hate making them. I'd much rather try my hand at writing characters in the show that I don't like than go through that big hassle. Despite the negativity, I'd like to think I did relatively well. On yet another note, I think I'm going to stop believing I can get a chapter out every week or so, because clearly it's just not working anymore. _

_-"Rebel souls... Deserters we are called. Chose a gun, and threw away the sun. Now these towns, they all know our name. Six-gun sound, is our claim to fame. I can hear them say...Bad Company, but I won't deny. Bad, Bad Company, til the day I die. Til the day I die!" –Theme song of Bad Company_

* * *

No sooner had the black leather settled around Dib's back, the door burst open again and crashed against the wall as a young woman with shoulder-length light purple hair stomped into the command center, her bright eyes flashing everywhere impatiently. What must have previously been a rather fashionable skirt and long-sleeved shirt were now hacked at and dirtied with grime, mostly covered by a padded vest and thick gloves. High steel-toed boots adorned her legs, though the soles looked as though they already were in the process of falling apart, and appeared to have been made for a guy instead from the make. It was as though she had taken them from someone else. Even before getting completely into the room, the girl was already snappishly making her presence known to all within.

"I heard you came back already. Gaz, did you manage to..." The woman faltered and stopped talking completely when her eyes fell upon Dib, the boy standing awkwardly as he struggled to come up with a good greeting for her. There was an incredible shock in her face and from that, Dib came to the strange realization of how familiar she looked. Before either of them could continue however, there was a groan of irritation from Gaz in the corner, rising from her brief slumber from the other girl's loud entrance.

Rubbing her forehead, the dark shadows under the annoyed girl's eyes was noticeably more pronounced than before, again prompting Dib to wonder just how much rest she must have missed during the whole rescue operation. "God, will you ever figure out how to keep your voice down, Zita?" Those words caused the boy to shift his gaze instantly to the young woman, recognizing her now as an older, more roughed up version of the schoolmate he knew so long ago. Dib had never liked her much, as the girl fit snugly into the role of one of his chief tormentors, but the sight of her now was shocking to say the least. Of course, Dib wasn't the most shocked person in the room by far.

Zita only managed to point at him and start to open her mouth to question Gaz before the sleepy young woman interrupted, "I don't know how it happened so don't bother asking. And he doesn't know either." Dib hadn't actually told Gaz anything about not knowing technically, but it was true anyway so he wasn't going to complain. Still, the older girl didn't look the slightest bit happy about her speech being cut off so abruptly, throwing Gaz a dirty look that made the boy suspect that the two of them did not get along well at all, shaking her head and dragging out a chair with a loud screech at the table to take a seat. Gaz sat up straighter, her dark eyes lined with suspicion, "Does that bother you?"

"You always have to act like such a vicious little know-it-all..."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, you cold-blooded woman," There was absolutely no hesitation with the insult.

"Yeah, so what? And like I give a damn what a bitch like you thinks."

"Were you even the slightest bit surprised?" The two girls exchanged a harsh glare. And suddenly Gaz rose to her feet abruptly, her chair wobbling and nearly clattering to the ground while Dib stood off to the side, confused and unable to think of a way to calm them down. There seemed to be lots of tension here that the boy didn't really know the cause of, and quite frankly didn't want to be caught up in.

"Now you're just whining. I did what needed to be done. I brought Dib back and I'm not going to be complaining about what he goddamn looks like," Gaz's right hand was on the table now, almost snarling at the other, while the other crept to the dagger at her side. Zita wrinkled her nose but didn't flinch away, remaining sitting stiffly were she was with one hand poised to draw her holstered pistol.

"Would you two rather I left first?" Dib spoke up for the first time since Zita's arrival then, his hands raised in front of his face in a weak attempt to placate them, not entirely certain if saying anything was the right thing to do. Clearly these two got along just a tad bit better than he did with Zim, despite the fact that both girls were actually supposed to be on the same side. Gaz seemed to immediately settle down after hearing him interject and Zita jumped surprise as if forgetting that the boy was even still in the room, reddening slightly and looking away.

"No, I'm done with dealing that psycho for today, so you can try to find a way to deal with her," Instantly after her bluntly worded put down, Gaz slumped back into her chair as if the effort of getting angry sapped all the rest of her strength. However, before a retort could make its way out of the older girl's mouth, the other interrupted again, "You'd better give him the grand tour, Zita. Medic first. I'd rather not have any _more _blood stains around here."

Oh yeah right, bandages.

Dib was a little embarrassed that he had actually forgotten about that. He was still bleeding, wasn't he?

Zita practically spat at her, "Don't you dare tell me what to do, _Gaz!_" This was in vain, as the younger teen had already fallen asleep in her chair, the low rumble of her breathing much more relaxed than before. Sighing she shrugged switched her gaze over to Dib, who stepped back involuntarily, still not certain whether or not she was still so utterly pissed off. "Pshhh...whatever, medic first, right? I guess you might as well know what's going on with our operation here..." The boy very much doubted whether she wanted to show him around by the edged tone of her voice, but he had no choice now. He spared one last look at the sleeping Gaz before taking a deep breath and following the other girl out the door. He still felt rather shaky; likely aftereffects of the food and altitude he was stuck with for so long.

Dib felt himself becoming more and more critical with the group's defenses with each second that passed, casting much sharper eyes over crumbling walls and badly subpar equipment, knowing that it wouldn't be enough to defend them when—not if—they'd have to withstand attack from Zim. After all, it was only a matter that he would retaliate now that Dib had escaped from him. Maybe this is what Gaz was talking about earlier, that he might have a plan to get this resistance up on its feet.

Although he hadn't quite nailed down anything specific just yet, but for a few scant ideas that could extend their life expectancy. However, without a few more details, he didn't feel like disclosing any of those ideas to Gaz or definitely not Zita yet.

It wasn't until the two of them had stopped at a white-washed door that the boy brought himself back to his immediate surroundings, finding the words "Nurse's Office" written on a well-worn plaque above the entrance. Dib stiffened, remembering the nurse from years ago who had turned out to be so much blinder to the truth than he had hoped for, "Don't tell me it's the same woman as before?"

Zita flashed a confused glance before understanding hit her, "Her? Oh no, I don't know what happened to the old nurse. We do what we can with what we've got anyway."

What was that supposed to mean?

She didn't give him a chance to inquire further, knocking sharply on the smooth wood with her knuckles and pushed the door open without even waiting for a reply from the inside before continuing. The room within was much changed from six years ago, and the moment Dib stepped inside, the smell of strong antiseptic and dried blood hit him like a sack of bricks. Most of the pale rest beds along the walls were occupied by injured men and women, some of which were crying out and some barely looked any older than Gaz. A large table had been dragged in from somewhere—as evidenced by the black scratch marks left in a trail of streaks from the entrance—and was crowded to the brim with medicines and utensils, some of which were stained with blood. A young woman was running back and forth between the patients hurriedly, a long white doctor's coat flapping around her ankles, tending to the sick and injured.

"Zita, if that's you I'm afraid I have a lot on my plate right now..." Her voice was tinged with a lisp that made Dib quirk his brow in interest. From the sound of her voice, she couldn't have been any older that he was—supposed to be—and yet was managing patients? Though it wasn't as though he had any right to complain as the boy had tended to his own wounds many times before, so speaking up would be a might bit hypocritical. Besides, the girl seemed to be handling herself with the tools well enough, and with her hair was just a few shades lighter than Gaz's and pulled into several ponytails, she looked like...

Dib frowned and shook his head slightly. No way, she couldn't be who he thought he was, right?

However the movement caused the young doctor to turn her head around and caught his eye, causing her to suddenly gasp in surprise and instantly dropped the stethoscope she held to the floor with a clatter. "Y-you can't be..." Her eyes rounded and she shot Zita a sidelong glance, the other of whom just nodded wordlessly to confirm her suspicions without actually explaining anything. "Dib...? Is that you?" Unbelievable, it was her. Just how many of his old classmates had become a part of this resistance group along with his sister anyway?

"Oh, hey...Gretchen...it's been a while," Dib managed to let out a weak laugh nervously, trying to relieve the tension and behind him Zita rolled her eyes dramatically, conveniently forgetting her own rather shocked reaction to his appearance not ten minutes before. But it was definitely Gretchen, as the girl hadn't really changed much. She was wearing a dual-colored dull brown and violet dress mostly covered by her white doctor's coat, and had apparently switched out her prescription braces as the years had passed for a smaller pair that added a bit more clarity to her words. The girl's hair had probably grown a few inches since then, but not by much, still retaining the same style as she'd possessed before.

Zita only glanced between them with an attitude suggesting she was bored, and shrugged idly before marching for the door. "If we're going to get this reaction over and over again, I might as well spread the news while you're here. Later," and without any further explanation, the teenage girl pushed the entrance open and marched out, leaving Dib as suddenly as she had appeared in the teacher's lounge.

"So anyway... You said earlier you were pretty busy," Just his luck to bother her about a festering injury while she was already tending to people who needed the help more.

"I'm not really...that busy..."

There was a slight pause before in sank in, "So you lied to Zita just now?"

"Well, the patients in here right now are that badly hurt or anything. They really just needed some bandages and a bit of bed rest," Gretchen picked up her stethoscope and ran it under some cool water from sink in the corner to clean it off, her hands still trembling ever so slightly. She seemed to stop herself every time she was about to meet his eyes and hesitated a moment or two before continuing much quieter, "And I don't like her very much..."

Dib couldn't restrain a chuckle, barely stopping himself from saying something along the lines of, "Yeah, I don't like her either. In fact, I find that she's really annoying." Besides, he really should be getting to the actual reason why he came here in the first place. Old classmate or not, he might be on a timer to getting infected and catching up with people he'd hardly known much even before could clearly wait. "So, if you're not too busy to see me, would you mind helping with this?" Dib held up his crudely bandaged wrist, for once realizing just how dirty the cloth actually was now that his sight had been restored. In all honesty, if she had just provided the bandages and antiseptic, the boy could handle changing the wrap by himself if need be, but he did want to see how effective Gretchen was as a doctor at close quarters.

He was...a bit surprised at the results. The teenage girl might have been shivering slightly, but she was still quite skilled at how much antiseptic to apply and make up for in ability what she clearly lacked in confidence. Dib's eyes narrowed in concentration as he studied her dressing of his wound from a rather analytical perspective, rather than just being plain thankful for the help like any ordinary perspective. When Gretchen had finished, the boy turn his hand in the air, only wincing marginally as the bandages didn't impede movement in any way and the medicine had mostly numbed the pain to the point where he didn't feel the inclination to react much. He was so used to getting injured—whether during a clash with Zim, or against some other supernatural he was busy hunting down—that the whole "oh my god, there's a gaping hole in my skin" situation wasn't something that got him very alarmed.

"Not bad," Dib murmured, just loud enough loud for the girl to hear, which put a sudden end to her nearly constant nervous fidgeting. Gretchen was just able to mumble a thanks under her breath before the black-garbed boy turned his attentions elsewhere, trying to satisfy both his inherent curiosity and understand the situation a little better. "So, now that I've both Zita and you here, just how many other members of our class made it into this resistance group anyways?"

"Huh?" Gretchen stumbled for a moment, watching as Dib cautiously sat down on one of the free beds around the room, resting his injured hand on his lap to take the weight and stress off of it. She pulled up a chair nearby and clasped her hands together as she started to speak, "Well, most of our class is here, but there are a lot more adults than anything else. Oh yeah, and some of the kids from other classes too, like Torque. No one here is younger than sixteen and we all joined up here because the school was the biggest building around town that we all knew well." Gretchen took a deep breath, glancing around at the other beds just to make sure that none of the other resting patients had woken up before continuing, "At first it was just Gaz. At least, that's what I heard. She was so good at surviving that others started following her, although her and Zita are pretty much equals now..."

"Wait, you mean Gaz and Zita are both the leaders here?"

"Y-yeah... I mean, the leadership is pretty much split. Gaz knows all about combat, and I guess Zita knows, er...self-preservation. They clash about...pretty much everything. What moves to make next, who to let into the group here, and whether to bring you back..." Gretchen abruptly went silent then, her eyes wandering over to Dib and then to the wall just as quickly, as though she were ashamed to have brought up the subject in the first place.

Dib was quiet for moment, picking at the corner of his collar when the silence became particularly uncomfortable. "Why did Zita object to me coming back, anyway?" Who else would it be but Zita, his old bully, who wouldn't want to go out of her way to save him?

"...She said that it would be more trouble than it was worth. She said that losing people to help you wasn't worth it..."

"Ouch, that's harsh."

"Yeah..."

A long and uncomfortable quiet stilled the air yet again.

"So _who, may I ask,_ among our band of _noble_, resistance fighters actually wanted me around?" Dib barely managed to stop the bitterness from showing itself in his voice and the girl seemed to notice.

"W-well... Gaz actually brought the idea up. She said that we needed help and needed someone who had experience dealing with Zim. Well, in her words, it was something along those lines. I didn't mind it, and neither did Melvin, some others...oh and Torque too."

That was surprising, "Wait, Melvin I can understand. He goes along with pretty much anything it seems like..." Well, Dib _did _drag his rather inert body around the booby-trapped school via inconvenient handcuffs during the whole lice infestation (which he was still slightly ashamed about; hypocrisy is not a fun feeling to remember), and the boy didn't try—or was able to—complain about it. But Torque? Maybe he suggested to him to hit Zim with something once or twice but c'mon! Sure, maybe he wasn't getting pummeled by the guy a lot or anything but he never really seemed to _care _about anything either. "But, why Torque?"

Gretchen paused, then just shrugged nonchalantly, "Well, he said that if there was anyone who could find out how to beat Zim, it would be you."

Well that was quite a vote of confidence from someone he hardly even knew. Or maybe those ten minutes or so of panicked rambling so long ago actually made an impression or something.

Though that did give the boy some interesting ideas. Namely, a few clues on how to go about bringing this group around and start doing some actual damage. "I'm going to need to speak to everyone soon, though..." Dib said, more to himself than to her.

"About what?"

"About how to get our hands on some weaponry that Zim's not going to like."

* * *

_(A/N): That seems like a good place to cut it off, right? I honestly don't know why Torque is painted as such a bully, he doesn't do anything to Dib, seriously. He shoves Zim once though, but other than that...  
_


End file.
